This is a song about "Clean no bad words"

No rest for the wicked, or the clean purest of sons

These hoes thuggin, these nigga's bitches don’t know the difference

No grief into these words

Feel like i’m movin' backwards

Don’t gotta shop, i ain't paying for shit

No nits to pick, no words unfit, no hairs to split

Your words no longer increase

I'm why baby mamas leave

Nobodies' hands are clean there is no purity.

Niggas fuck with your boy, i can make you some money

Till they take off there skirt i got bad bitches i dont fuck em clean

And some of the stuff i tried to do they had never seen

I’m so 100 with every nigga i run with

No squeaky clean scenes of ghetto violence is,

Never chose the bad life , no bad crowds

Hundred racks of hundreds in the stash house